“Mr. Morgana, the test results came back to us. Just like before, You’re a healthy fifteen-year-old boy.” Says the middle age man in the lab coat.

“If that was the case, then why do I look like a fifteen-year-old girl?” I spit out.

“Genetics? We have done several tests on you already, and all results came up the same. You’re healthy, there is nothing biologically wrong with you. Your testosterone level is that what it should be of a teenage boy.”

I sigh, why did I even bother? “Thank you, doctor, I know this has all been a waste of time for you, and I apologize that it has been. It’s just, I look like any other teenage girl even though I’m no doubly male. I’m grateful that you humored me.”

The doctor sighs, “I don’t blame you, Tracy. If I was you or if you were my son. I would be doing the same.”

“Well,” I stand up and shake the doctor’s hand, “Since there is nothing else. I’ll see you in a more personal fashion.”

The doctor smiles back, “Yeah, when I’m not taking your blood… or prostate.”

I giggle, “Thanks again, doctor. Have a good day.” I walk out of the hospital and go to the bathroom. Going into the stalls, I sit down on toilet and cry.

A minute of crying later and I hear, “Um, are you okay?” from a boy’s voice.

“I’m alright.” I choke, it wasn’t alright. I didn’t want my body to be this way. It felt wrong and no amount of testosterone could change it.

I always wanted to be like my brothers. I did everything I could to be like them, but I just not like them. I thought maybe if I did sports or anything macho, daddy would love me. He didn’t, he just thought of me more of a disappointment. Most of my brothers felt the same. All they saw me was, ‘The bastard’ or the ‘bitch boy’.

“You’re lying.” The boy says in a non-accusing voice.

I open the doors and shriek, “I’M NOT LYING!” the tears that pour down my face says otherwise. I just drop to the ground and bawl.

Arms embrace me, the boy hugs me and coos, “Ssssshhhh, let it out. It’s ok to cry.” I just reach for his shoulder and cry into it until I could cry any longer.

“Are you okay now?” The boy whispers. I nod into his shoulder

I push back and take look at the boy, “Luke?”

“Tracy?”

We both have a surprised look on our faces.

“Why were you crying?”

I compose myself, “None of your business.”

He gives me a wistful look as though he was sad that I was sad “Hmm, well if you ever need to talk about it. You can tell me anything.” Then he gives me a thoughtful look, "Me and my sister are going out to lunch after, do you want to come?”

“You mean ‘my sister and I’ and I would,” on cue, my stomach growls with hunger. I blush, “On second thought, I would be delighted to.”

“Great!” Luke says with a grin. He starts walking away and I follow.

“This is not a date. I’m just hungry, okay.”

“Yeah sure.” Still keeping that idiotic grin.

“By the way, why are you here?”